


Late Evening

by TheDarkFlygon



Series: Old PDV Stuff (2013-2016) [9]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Don't Read This, Gen, Hospitalization, Protectiveness, Rape, Rape Aftermath, Rape Recovery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-30
Updated: 2014-05-30
Packaged: 2019-06-18 19:48:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15493356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDarkFlygon/pseuds/TheDarkFlygon
Summary: I really can't explain this piece of utter shit.I'm mostly posting it as an archive thing and as a way to show PDV's multiple faces, even if I wish real hard I didn't have to post this because that'd have meant I hadn't written this shit. It's insultingly bad and unresearched.Do yourself a favour, go read something else, from me or from other people. You'll be far better off.





	Late Evening

**Author's Note:**

> I really can't explain this piece of utter shit.  
> I'm mostly posting it as an archive thing and as a way to show PDV's multiple faces, even if I wish real hard I didn't have to post this because that'd have meant I hadn't written this shit. It's insultingly bad and unresearched.   
> Do yourself a favour, go read something else, from me or from other people. You'll be far better off.

It was a classic Thursday evening at the Lycée Arthur Rimbaud, in Homarville. The last lesson of the day was over and pupils were going back home, interns were going to their room in the school. Cleaning agents were already in all the buildings, their mission was to erase both drawings on the tables and the rests of white chalk in the classrooms’ blackboard. 

In the 208 classroom, situated on the second half of the main corridor of the second floor of the main building, a young woman was saying goodbye to her last pupils of the day, some 10th Graders, after an hour of History-Geography methodology. 

This young woman is Juliette Jonquille, one of the new teachers to the school. She had long soft brown hair, stopping right before her breasts on the front, continuing a bit in her back. Her brown eyes were surprisingly tired despite her young age, since she was only twenty-six years old. Under them, there were deep dark rings. 

The young teacher was wearing a black suit, her vest closed with its only button, worn over a plain black top, with long sleeves. Her hair was a mess because of her numerous movements, especially when she was passing her hand in it. Her make-up consisted of a light purplish blue eye shadow, a bit of black eyeliner circling her eyes and a discreet brown blush on her slightly hollowed, naturally reddish cheeks. 

Actually, Juliette was working at two high schools at the same time: the lycée Arthur Rimbaud and the lycée Vauban. She was constantly running between the two schools, which were at a half hour from the other one. Despite this extremely tiring work style, she was keeping a smile on her face. 

This evening, there was nobody around, except Luc Parillot, another History teacher, in the other half of the corridor in the 210 classroom. Juliette was packing her stuff in her two bags: a large one she was holding on her right shoulder, which contained her lessons and books, and a really small one, where she was putting her food for breaks and her mobile phone. The young teacher also put her coat on the top of the largest bag and was ready to leave, when a pupil entered in the room.

It was a student from the 1STMG2 class, that she had two hours this very day. He was precisely Brandon Durand, the worst pupil from his class. His marks weren’t higher than three over twenty and he wasn’t doing anything to make them better. He just didn’t care at all. He was already nineteen years old, since he doubled three grades. The subject he hated the most was History-Geography. His teacher stopped trying to convince him to work and shut her mouth. 

Juliette was surprised to see him here at this hour and blinked. She put her bags on the desk and asked him: “Brandon, what are you doing here?”  
The student answered: “I’m here to ask ya why ya’re so annoyin’, borin’ and dull.” He was addressing her “tu”, which was a clear mark of disrespect.  
His teacher didn’t let this upset her. She said him, with a disturbingly calm voice: “You already bothered me enough today Brandon. I’m asking you: why are you here?”

The young man suddenly rushed towards her, his eyes full of anger. Juliette’s eyes opened wide as she was starting to panic. Never a pupil or a student tried to hit her. The young woman moved back, forgetting that there was a wall. 

Brandon trapped his teacher between him and the wall with his arms. He clutched her wrists. The victim asked him, shocked: “Why are you doing this?!”  
He slammed her head against the thin wall behind her. She muffled a scream of pain and asked again, even more determined. He replied with another head slamming. She muffled her scream again, now bleeding from the behind of her head. 

The student was furious. He brutally clutched her neck and started to strangle her, while raising her whole body. Juliette grabbed her student’s hands, trying to set her free from his grip. Noticing it, Brandon strangled her even stronger, causing her to have difficulties to breath. She gasped for air, and tried to talk, without success.   
He screamed at her: “Why aren’t ya screamin’ of pain already?!”  
Much to his surprise, she answered with a very weak and muffled voice: “I don’t want you to feel victorious or proud for killing me off”

He let her neck free, astonished by her answer and how she could still answer anyway. Juliette almost fell on her knees, but grabbed the wall before falling. Brandon then clutched again her wrists. His teacher asked him again: “Why are you doing this, hmm?” 

The student gave her a wary look but still replied, his voice vibrating with anger: “Ya see, Miss, I hated ya from the beginnin’. Ya lessons suck. Ya suck anyway. And almost all of my friends like ya just for ya bein’ young. Nah, ya mind is the ugliest I evah saw. I was waitin’ for the day I could torture ya so hard, and tonight is this day I waited for since Septembah. April 2014, you listen?! I, Brandan Durand, can eventually kill ya off!”   
He took a deep breath before continuing. 

“But I thought ya would die from being slapped ovah the wall or strangled, but I think I know an even funniest and coolest way to do this. A way so much longah you will finally scream and, I hope, cry. I want ya to suffer physically and mentally as much as I did in my entire life.”   
He finished with an evil smile on his face. 

The woman’s legs started to shake; her mind was starting to suffer. Juliette was shocked to the deepest part of herself. She still didn’t watered; her strong wanting to retain any proof of suffering was still here.   
She replied, with a voice trying to be calm: “You’re a really, really sick-minded person. Don’t you think you’re switching places? And what is this thing you’re talking about?”

Brandon made an evil grin, and regrouped the hands of his victim at the same spot, to have one hand free. His victim was wondering what he was doing, still trying to get her hands off of his grip. Her breathing was irregular, sometimes softer, and sometimes sharper. Her wound behind her head was slowly tainting her hair in a blood red color.   
He calmly said: “At least, ya are decently pretty to be attractive. It will be easiah to do what I want to.” 

The young man unbuttoned his teacher’s vest. At this moment, Juliette realized: he was going to rape her. Brandon continued his “work” by taking off this very vest, then proceeding to get his victim’s top at the level of her chest. The latter was watching the scene, without being able to do anything against it, her eyes full of fear and tiredness. Her breath was the one of a much stressed person. 

Meanwhile, an older man was going to the administration of the school. This tall, dark brown-haired man was Luc Parillot, the most known teacher of all the students. He was the main teacher of the Euro Section and a History-Geography teacher, and is also the mentor of Juliette in some way, making him really protective of her when Justine from the 2D4 class wasn’t around. 

Luc had to depose a paper for the trip to Ireland he wanted to do the next year, after the one to Scotland he organized in 2014. In this trip, he was accompanied by Rémy, his goofy poet wannabe workmate and friend, an English workmate he was going well with and, to finish, Juliette Jonquille, who was the youngest teacher of the school. His choice surprised everybody. 

During this trip, his young workmate has been admired, bullied, discovered, described, taken in photo sleeping or embarrassed, mocked, and other things a teacher could be when he or she accompanies. But when she was injured at her ankle, he became suddenly overprotective of her concerning how she was walking. She didn’t even have to wear a splint for this. 

Back in the 208 classroom, Brandon was continuing his “work”. His victim had now her bra off, as well as her pants. Her aggressor had an evil smile on his face and started to eventually rape his helpless History teacher. The latter closed her tired eyes, with only one want: for everything of this to stop. 

In her head, Juliette could only think of what she would prefer than being in her right state. Disappearing without leaving any trace, being buried or even killed, it didn’t matter: she just wanted to escape.  
The embarrassment went at its paroxysm when her rapper put his hand on her belly. Recently, she noticed something wrong about it. It felt like she had a little ball under her stomach’s skin. It was pressing a bit at the beginning, what wasn’t really bothering her. The problem was that this ball was growing and eventually began to hurt the previous week. 

Her legs were shaking worse than they ever had before. Her student was enjoying this: he had an unhealthy smile on his face. Suddenly, he went harder. His victim screamed of pain, which made Brandon proud of him. Proud of himself, he continued to do so, hurting even more each time, while he didn’t notice it was hurting himself. 

Luc was almost going home when he murmured: “Snap, I forgot something in the storage room…” He then went upstairs again and rushed, wanting to take his train to Lille, his hometown. When he closed the 211 room, the storage room of the second floor, he heard a high pitched scream from the second half of the corridor and rushed towards the 208 room.

Even if she didn’t want to cry; the raped woman had tears forming in her eyes. Her suffering came suddenly to its paroxysm and she screamed the highest and the strongest she ever did. This sole scream caused her to cry, prying her own student to stop. Instead of stopping, the latter licked her salty tears flowing on her cheeks, rendered red by the heat of the room. 

And when Brandon started to grow tired, he just stopped. Juliette fell on her knees, crying and clutching her stomach. She wasn’t just injured. She was dishonored and shameful. An 11th Grader just raped her, and she wasn’t even able to stop him. All the teacher could do was putting her clothes on again, even if they were untidy. 

When Luc entered the room, he found a pupil he hated getting his stuff back and his protégée, crying on the floor, clearly hurt. The older teacher quickly got furious and came to the student. Brandon began to be a bit scared: he was going to be fronting his second most hated teacher, but he wasn’t as light-build physically as Mrs. Jonquille. 

The dark brown-haired man gave his former student an evil look, his eyes filled with pure anger and a strong will to avenge his now weak and suffering protégée. He grabbed Brandon’s arm and yelled at him, his voice vibrating with anger even harder than the 11th Grader’s one before:   
“What have you done to her?! Oh, that’s right, you RAPED her!! Don’t you even have a mind or a sense of morality?! No, because you’re a sick-minded jerk! What did she do to you for making her suffer so much?!”  
The student couldn’t reply, way too panicked and harmless. 

Suddenly, Luc let Brandon free; the latter escaped as quickly as he could. The teacher rushed to his workmate, who fell to the ground. Juliette still smiled weakly at who she considered as a true mentor and, right in the moment, her saver. He smiled her back and whispered:  
“Oh Juliette, you shouldn’t smile right now… Anyway, I’m taking you to the hospital.” 

When he took his now gravely weakened workmate, his eyes grew wide. A blood strain tainted her hair from the behind of her head. Luc had no choice. He, quickly as possible, packed her stuff, took her in his arms marriage style and closed the door of the 208 classroom. 

The problem, it’s Juliette who told him in a very weak whisper: “You don’t have a car…” She paused and finished: “But take mine… My keys are in my little bag…” Right after finishing her sentence, she fell unconscious. 

Luc listened to her. When they arrived in the parking, there was no more teacher cars, the only one being Juliette’s one. The older teacher opened the latter and put his weakened friend on the back seats, then putting the key and turning on the car. 

The road leading to the nearest hospital, the Hospital Center of Holfait, seemed to be an eternity for Luc. The traffic was busy at this hour. His worries were growing stronger every minute, every red light, every time the other cars stopped. The man eventually arrived to the hospital and rushed to the reception of the building.

The receptionist was quite shocked of the state Juliette was in. She averted immediately the medical service and called out two men, a dark-skinned bald tall man and another fair-skinned with brown hair and glasses. The two took the weakened woman from her workmate’s arms. The blond-haired, brown-eyed receptionist asked Luc to go into the waiting room. 

The people around Luc were curious about him. They never saw him before and he seemed strange. Why would an average-aged man be here? For what reason or for who would he wait? The thirty-six years old teacher seemed really stressed out, with his irregular breath and quick movements. 

A chestnut-haired, blue eyed woman went to him. Her face structure and body shape was reminding the man about his poor injured protégée.   
She said to him: “Hello sir. My name is Mathilde Pasteur; I am a teacher in an elementary school in Eperlecques. And you, who are you?”  
Surprised, he replied: “I’m Luc Parillot, History teacher at the lycée Arthur Rimbaud in Homarville…”  
Mathilde then responded: “Oh, you’re working in the same school as my little sister! She’s also a History teacher…”  
She was interrupted by the brown-haired man: “Who just arrived there… Her name isn’t Juliette Jonquille, madam?”  
The elementary school teacher blinked, surprised: “You… You knew who I was talking about?!”  
Luc replied, with a saddened voice and sorrow in his eyes: “I can only think of her right now…”

Mathilde looked at him, surprised and quite disturbed. Who was this guy to her sister? Never Juliette had told her she had a boyfriend or a lover. Was he just a creepy stalker? This thought blood-curled her. 

The woman asked him violently, almost screaming: “What are you saying, you creep?!”  
Her interlocutor answered, putting his hand on her shoulders: “You don’t know?! If I’m here, it’s cos your sister, your own little sister, just got raped by one of her students!!”  
Mathilde was shocked by this new. Her eyes grew wide and watered. What did just happen to her precious little sister, who always seemed to be so fragile and tired?  
She mumbled: “She… She got raped?! But that’s… That’s horrible!!”

Mechanically, without even thinking, Luc embraced Mathilde. The latter cried in the arms of Juliette’s closest workmate, and she didn’t even know who he was seconds ago. He tried to smooth her, but nothing worked. The big sister, who always seemed so perfect to the little one’s eyes before, broke down in tears, without even searching to resist. 

One hour after, Luc could finally see Juliette. Mathilde had to go back home to take care of her three children. The younger teacher’s hospital room was the 208, just like the room where she was raped. The brown-haired man knocked at the door. He got no answer, but still entered; wanting to be sure she was at least in a better shape. 

The hospital bedroom’s walls were of a slightly greyed white. The floor was covered with plain grey linoleum. The windows were giving a view on the park-like outside garden of the hospital. There was, at the left, a small bathroom for the hospitalized person to wash him or herself. The walls were quite thin actually, but not as thin as some of Arthur Rimbaud’s classrooms’ ones. 

In this hospital room, the bed was at the left, against the wall making an angle with the one with the windows. A TV was pinned on the opposite wall to the bed. There was an armchair leaning by the right of the latter. It was faced, on the other side, by the foldable table, used for the patient to eat in his or her bed. Luc guessed Juliette would stay confined to bed at least two days. It couldn’t hurt this tired woman, after all. He then looked at the center of the room, where was a round table and two chairs. 

Luc’s footsteps, which weren’t that noisy, could clearly be heard. The room was completely silent, exception of the few birds flying by who were twittering. The only source of light was the sunset light coming from the wall-heighted double window. 

The older of the two teachers then placed one of the round table’s chairs by the bed. He sat and looked at his workmate. Juliette was still unconscious; her breathing was helped with medical devices. She had her head bandaged where the wound caused by her head being slapped against the wall. Her wrists were also bandaged after they started bleeding from scratches caused by the student’s grip. There were traces of strangulation on her fragile thin neck, almost red and deeply marked. 

Luc looked at her, affected by her bad shape. He gently stroked her bandaged hand, his eyes reflecting sadness and guilt.   
He murmured: “Juliette… Why didn’t I save you earlier…? If only I could have known what was happening down there…”  
He shed a tear which fell on her injured wrist. 

Since he already missed his train, Luc decided to sleep in this very room. It was easy: he just had to ask and a bed. Lille is pretty far from Holfait after all, and it was beginning to get dark outside, past 8:30 PM. The sky was already dark and populated with bright white stars. Luc had the dinner Juliette would have if she was conscious: a traditional hospital food plate, tasteless and kind of disgusting, but anyway, he had to do with what he was having. 

But the male teacher had to think about one thing. How was he going to go to school? The road between the Arthur Rimbaud School and the hospital was quite dangerous. It’s when he found Juliette’s keys in his pocket that he knew how he would. She was confined to bed for the next two days, so he could take her car. Luckily, he had his driving license on him. 

The next morning, when Luc woke up, he immediately checked on Juliette. She was still in an unconscious state. But this time, when looking at her, he smiled and said softly:   
“Sorry to steal your car away, but I need it, see ya later”

At the school, the new shocked all of Luc’s workmates. Even those who didn’t even know the victim or the pupils were disgusted. The homeroom teacher of the 1STMG2 class was furious against Brandon Durand, and before leaving the room for the first lesson of the day, she swore to murder him verbally. 

The 1STMG1 class was quite unstable this day. Sure, they didn’t have History once or twice before, but this time, it was because of a STMG 11th Grader himself. Some had pity for their teacher; others were disgusted by the rape itself. The 208 classroom was closed for the day: police searches were going on. 

The 1STMG2 completely rejected their classmate for what he did. Even those who did like him or didn’t like their History teacher were deeply shocked by the rape or by how he could have even done that. Mrs. Jonquille was far from being a mean person at all, just joking sarcastically sometimes. Some of the students felt ashamed and betrayed by this criminal. 

As to the 2D4 class, the reactions were mixed up. Some didn’t even care about the entire affair, while some were completely disturbed when this was announced. The most violent reaction was from the young Justine Lhotar, who was furious when she was told about this. When she talked with her Euro teacher, M. Parillot, he was astonished of how much she seemed to care about her History teacher. He could swear: he never saw this in his entire life.

Actually, this particular student was one of the closest, if not the one, to her History teacher. Not only she was indeed one of her favorites, but she was also her favorite reader. Justine was drawing a comic about what didn’t happen in the trip to Scotland, and her version of the young unknown woman was the main character. For their first year knowing each other, the two were pretty close. 

Luc, after being surprised so much, flew back to the Hospital Center of Holfait. When he came back in the 208 room, he was quite happy of what he saw: his workmate was no longer under the breathing device. He opened a bit one of the windows and sat on the chair by the bed. The mentor gave a sweet smile to his dear protégée, who was now sleeping peacefully.

It was 07:30 PM. The dinner was being served in the entire hospital. But this time, things happened differently. Instead of getting a plate of tasteless food, he got a plate of tasty food! Luc was pretty happy to be eventually able to eat correctly in here. That would mean she would also eat a bit better than he did the day before. But it was enough for him to finally eat fresh good pastas.

On this evening, Luc was reading a bit. It has been two days now he hasn’t been home, but luckily, Juliette’s brother-in-law, Charles Pasteur, had clothes he fitted in. The teacher just promised to wash and give them back the soonest possible. He was using the hospital room’s bathroom for washing himself, being dirty is not feeling good. 

Suddenly, a slight cough broke up the silence of the room, and it wasn’t his. When he turned his head towards the bed, he saw his protégée waking up from her long sleep. A long sleep that did quite good things on her: she was now less tired according to her dark rings less deep than before and she had a bit more color than usual without blush on.

Her brown eyes had a bit of difficulty to open, but eventually turned towards the mentor’s ones. After a short looking at each other, Juliette smiled to him, a small kind smile Luc replied to with another. The younger one tried to slowly sit up, but was forced to lie down by a sharp pain coming from her still recovering stomach. 

The woman asked her saver: “How much long I’ve been in this bed…?”  
He answered: “It has been all of Thursday evening and all Friday long…”  
Her eyes grew wide and she violently sat up: “You mean I skipped all my lessons of Friday?!”  
Her body was still not ready, as she clutched her stomach and gritted her teeth. 

Luc panicked a bit before putting her back into a lying position: “Juliette, calm down! You’re still recovering from… This! It’s already a miracle you could talk so quickly!”  
She replied, disappointed of herself: “Yeah, I know… But I feel so useless… I need to teach them to finish that program…”

Her speech got Luc angry: “Listen to me, young lady! YOU are unable to teacher right now! Plus you’re confined to bed until Monday, so we’re good on that point. You. Don’t. Teach. OK? I find you once at this damn school, I’m personally killing you. And don’t you ever think about just going to Vauban. I have friends there who I can ask about your presence.”

Juliette reacted violently, sat up without even showing any pain on her eyebrows and slapped her workmate the strongest she could at the moment. The latter put a hand on his red cheek, shocked to the point he couldn’t replicate. 

She yelled: “DON’T YOU EVER TELL ME WHAT I HAVE TO DO!!”

Luc was going to answer to her when the injured one clutched again her midriff. She was almost plied in two parts. He whispered, making no-no movements with his hand and face-palming himself. 

It wasn’t the first time Juliette was this stubborn. She already went to work ill, sometimes almost voiceless, eventually finishing by losing her voice by the evening. When it happened, Luc just knew her and already had to teach her how to teach. 

The older one was worried for his young workmate. Juliette, even if her mind was one of the strongest, was a fragile person physically. Her body was light-build and was in overall weakened a lot by her constant running between Rimbaud and Vauban. The tiredness she was the victim of was also one of her main problems, both physically and mentally.

Luc said calmly, desperate by his workmate: “You know, when I say you need to rest and to do nothing including work, it’s because I’m right…”  
She simply replied, calmly, head down: “And I wish my life could be this simple…”

The oldest of the two History teachers was quite surprised by her reply: “But, Juliette… Why do you mean by this…? You are forcing yourself to do something your body can’t endure…”

The young woman gripped gently her stomach and said, sorrow in her voice: “Luc… You just… Don’t know what my life was before I became the teacher you know… And hope at least like…”  
And she explained everything he needed to her workmate. 

“Back in 1985… My older sister Mathilde, who was at the time four years old, was feeling lonely. All of her friends had a brother or a sister, big or little. But she didn’t. My parents, Michel and Daphnée, were sad of seeing their precious daughter like this. After having convinced themselves, they decided to have another child. On the 26th of July 1987, their younger daughter, me, was born. 

As you can conclude, Luc, right from the beginning, I was Mathilde’s little sister. And even if I knew she loved me deeply, my parents were privileging her.   
Mathilde has always been this kind of motherly person you commonly meet in front of schools at 4:30 PM for her children. I wasn’t. I was this kind of girl who was most of the time alone or with her closest friends, talking with teachers at breaks, studying. She wasn’t an exceptionally clever girl and I was the best student of my class. But it looked like as if this was the opposite case. I tried to do even better when attending high school, and I felt gravely sick, being confined to bed for two weeks. At this moment, my family eventually asked themselves if they weren’t wrong… I was happy of having my own apartment and business in my fourth year of college.”

Juliette stopped to breathe before continuing, Luc being deeply interested and touched by her speech.

“But all the success I had with studies and part-time jobs was stopped in one strike. In 2008, in the middle of a magisterial class, my head and stomach hurt so painfully I would have needed to leave the classroom to go to the infirmary. But this lesson was important and I chose to stay… It was my biggest error at the moment… I had to change of places to work with a friend when, suddenly and violently, I clutched my stomach. Everybody was watching me while I was trying to go to her table, walking the best I could. I was seeing almost nothing, my eyes blurred by tears from the pain I had in the stomach. I eventually fell unconscious in the middle of the room…   
When I woke up, I was at hospital; a doctor was sitting on a chair by my bed, just like you are right now. He explained to me that I was suffering from a powerful overwork and that my body wasn’t made to endure this, as well as my mind.”  
She took another breath. Tears began to form in her eyes. 

“My parents and sister knew this rapidly. At the time, Mathilde was even pregnant of twins, my nephews Hugo and Théo. They came to see me at the CHR of Lille. My parents mostly reproached me this overwork and how I was not giving them any importance. At the moment, I stayed quiet: I was too weak to talk…

My sister was a bit more supportive of me, but this was only of a bit. Well, she wasn’t yelling at me, at least… She also reproached me for not caring enough for my family but also, much to my surprise, how I was working. She was already an elementary school teacher and she was reproaching me of how much I was putting efforts to become a teacher myself… I didn’t understand back then.

Actually, they were worried for me. But I was having a really painful headache and I couldn’t think properly. Maybe they weren’t even yelling and it was my head that was making their voice more powerful… But now that I think clearly about what happened, it’s obvious it was worries and not anger or disappointment…”

She whipped the tears now flowing from her brown eyes and finished her story.

Juliette felt like she was squeezed, in a gently way. Her interlocutor was really embracing her. She couldn’t stop her tears and started to cry, silently, her head buried in her hands. 

She asked him: “What is this room’s number…?”  
Luc was surprised, but sill answered: “It’s the 208 one, if you want to know…”  
The crying woman said softly, with an almost muffled voice: “I always get this room number… Every time I get in a damn hospital, it’s in the 208 room…”  
Juliette then fell asleep. Luc smiled gently to his friend, and put her in bed, covering her weak shoulders with the bed’s blanket and going to sleep too.

The morning after, when Luc woke up, the other bed of the room was empty. His eyes grew wide: how could she wake up this early?!   
It was upsetting him: she was confined to bed for the next two days! Moreover, it was Saturday, so why would she even get up? It’s not like she was working the Saturday morning: she knew she would hardly succeed because of the tiredness caused by the week. 

The upset man quickly got on his feet and searched for his stubborn workmate. She was nowhere to be found in the main area. He opened violently the bathroom door. She had to be here.   
And Luc was correct.

When he entered the room, he found Juliette looking at the mirror pinned on the wall, upon the sink. The only sound that could be heard was not the sound of the water flowing. It was cries, more precisely her cries.

Luc could see the young woman’s face reflecting the mirror. Her eyes were bloodshot; tears had flooded all over her reddish cheeks according to the traces of water, her brows were showing pain. They quickly changed to surprise when she noticed a presence behind her back. But this presence couldn’t see what her hands were doing.   
The older teacher immediately guessed. According to the tears, the eyes and the brows, it was clear: she was clutching her stomach because of the pain. 

Luc was worried. Was it so painful normally? Or was it because she had another problem?   
These questions were burning his lips. He wanted to ask them so much either to his workmate or to the hospital staff. He went closer to her. 

The man asked his protégée: “Juliette, are you alright…?”  
She answered weakly: “Yeah, I’m fine, don’t worry that much…”  
Luc wasn’t convinced at all by this answer: he had even more worries now.

Actually, Juliette was not clutching her stomach, but holding this ball that was hurting her. Her eyes were staring at it for a while now, since it woke her up quite early and prevented her from sleeping again. The ball had increased of height since Thursday, and was now big enough to make its bearer looking three months pregnant. 

When the mentor noticed it, he blinked of surprise. He was sure he didn’t saw it, or at least or wasn’t that big, Thursday or even right before he went to bed. Did it appear in one night? Or was it already there and it grew during the night? These questions also had to be answered. 

Luc asked her, his voice sounded worried: “What is this?”  
She replied, her eyes now looking at him: “I… I don’t know myself… It feels like a ball, but, a ball of what..?”

It’s at this moment he understood something who wasn’t clear before.   
This is why she had to be operated this very day. They were going to take this ball away. And that was why Juliette was confined to bed. Everything was clearer now.   
Hospital staff quickly came to do the operation. 

During the operation, Luc wanted to come back to Lille. But he had to give Charles’s clothes back.   
The brown-haired man took his workmate’s car again. They were living at Eperlecques, where Mathilde was an elementary school teacher. Her husband was a French teacher working at a middle school not far from there.

Mathilde Jonquille and Charles Coulomb met each other in 11th Grade. They were both in the L section.   
At the time, they were just comrades, then friends. But someday, Charles noticed he was kind of jealous when he was seeing her with another guy. It’s at this moment he knew he was in love with the sweet Mathilde from the 1L1 class.   
When he declared to his soul mate, she blushed all red. So, her feelings were reciprocal? She didn’t even care it was in the middle of the high school’s corridor, the girl kissed her man deeply. 

 

Time passed by and Mathilde was now in college. Her life was at its best: her boyfriend, her friends, her family were all fine and happy. All, except one person, and she didn’t notice it before it was too late.  
In 2003, during her 3rd year, Mathilde’s mother, Daphnée, called her. Not used to be called during the afternoon, the young woman answered. 

Daphnée had sorrow in her voice, which was worrying her daughter. When the latter asked what was wrong, the mother answered:  
“Math… It’s… It’s about your sister… She is sick…”  
The other sister replied: “And? It’s not the first time Juliette is sick”  
Her mother retained a tear and explained: “This time Mathilde… Her fever is above 42 degrees…”  
The student rushed to her parents’ house.

Mathilde didn’t even ask before entering in her former home. Her father, Michel, was filling papers in the living room, completely disturbed by what was happening with his family. Between her older daughter who was according more importance to her boyfriend than her studies and his younger one who was in overwork before she was even eighteen, he didn’t know what to do.   
She went upstairs, just to check on her own little sister. When entering the room, Daphnée left after having both-cheeks kissed her daughter. 

The curtains of the room were closed. The light was dim and there was no heating. The bed was at the right of the room, by the wall. A small dresser was by the door and the only double window was giving a view on the street. Under this window was a desk, where many copybooks were opened on lessons and drills. 

Mathilde came closer to the bed and sat on the chair by its other side. She had to be the most silent possible. The young woman almost shot in a bucket full of cold water who was also by the bed.

Her sister was in her bed, head looking up. A wet washcloth was cooling her forehead that must have been burning. Her hair was messy and was almost entering her mouth.


End file.
